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“Yes. Hence my fear that he’ll eventually grow tired of the fact I can’t fit—”
“—into his world,” Grace said at the same time she did. “Well, you know what, Lucy? He lives in the same world you do.”
“You’re wrong,” Lucy said quietly. “Think about how you felt about Max before you got together. About how Melina felt about Rhys. Before they proved they wanted you and only you, before they fought to keep you, can you tell me you all came from the same world?”
Grace’s silence was deafening and Lucy knew she’d made her point. Rhys and Max weren’t rolling in money, but they were true celebrities and had been renowned ladies men; it had taken quite some work for Melina and Grace to accept they were what the two men wanted and all they’d ever want in life partners.
“You’re right. I’m sorry, Lucy. I’ll shut up about it.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Just do me one favor?”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Be careful with your heart, and especially be careful with Jamie’s. Pretending can turn into a lot more and if, in the end, you’re not willing to take a risk…”
“I’ll be careful,” she said. “But you don’t need to worry so much. Jamie and I both know what this is…and what it isn’t.”
After Lucy hung up with Grace, however, she thought about what Grace had said. And she wondered if she was risking hurting Jamie. He’d made it clear from the start that he preferred committed relationships…and committed sex. While he seemed okay with having sex with her while they were committed to their plan, she couldn’t help but think what they were doing wasn’t any easier for him than it was her. Maybe it would be better all around for her to thank him for his offer to help, let him off the hook, and just let things fall where they may.
Only she’d already told the entire world that they were engaged…
And the thought of not getting custody of Milly…
Still unsure what to do, she called Melina and filled her in. Her friend was supportive as well, but gave Lucy almost the same advice that Grace had given her.
God, she loved her friends and counted herself lucky to have them.
After hanging up with Melina, she once again checked her Facebook page and was not surprised that she had thirty new comments. What did surprise her was one was from Diana, Mason’s sister. Diana was not one of her Facebook “friends,” but apparently she was a friend of a friend, which meant she’d someone managed to see and comment on Lucy’s status.
Diana had commented, “That’s wonderful! Gorgeous ring! Congratulations to you both.”
Lucy shook her head and shut down the computer. Once again, she wondered, Could it really be this easy?
Later that day, after Lucy spoke with the attorney, she wasn’t wondering if the fake engagement plan would work—she was praying that it did.
If it didn’t, she was going to be seriously tempted to spill blood.
On second thought, she might be tempted to do so even if the fake engagement did work.
According to the lawyer, the reasons Mason’s parents and sister had cited for contesting Lucy’s guardianship of Milly was Lucy’s “excessive alcohol use,” her “multiple sexual partners,” and her “unstable social and home life, which would put the baby at risk.”
Shaking with rage, she paced the attorney’s office. “Don’t they have to back up their allegations? Just how are they going to prove how many sexual partners I have? Or for that matter,” she asked the attorney, “how much alcohol I drink?”
Lucy didn’t even have “multiple” sexual partners. She was an adult who engaged in consenting sex when the mood struck. But she didn’t sleep with more than one guy at a time; she was monogamous with partners so long as they were together, whether she made that official or not.
The alcohol thing was bullshit, too. Lucy drank occasionally when she went out with her friends, but that wasn’t every weekend, and she never got drunk. She liked to be in control, and too much alcohol took that away from her.
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell the lawyer all this, but she forced herself not to make excuses to a man who was a virtual stranger. She refused to justify her lifestyle choices to anyone, damn it.
Yet she couldn’t deny feeling like she was sixteen years old again, being chastised and lectured by her father for her inappropriate and ultimately embarrassing actions.
“My guess would be they’ve either hired a private investigator, or they plan to hire one. Money is not really a consideration for these people, Lucy; they’ll do whatever it takes.”
A private investigator. Someone following her around. Keeping book. Taking pictures.
God, was it possible he’d attended Open Strip Night?
